Gospel Story Finder

Now, I get pretty tender on this point. I served as a lonely soldier in a great conflict some years ago. I just think somehow you and I and your children have got to get the lump back in the throat when we see the flag, when we hear our national anthem, when we read about our history and review the great contributions of this country and its preparation by the Lord himself. I mentioned this briefly in my conference talk last week. The situation is still very forcefully upon my mind. I recall helping to shoot a lock off a concentration camp on an island in the Pacific. Because we are in devotional and have ladies present I won’t attempt to describe the filth and the misery, the pain and the muck I saw there. Three thousand people had been incarcerated for over three years. Over thirty babies had been born that year alone—all with terrible malnutrition and disease. As I was helping to evacuate these natives back to a safe part of the beach where medical aid and comfort could be given, I was interrupted by a thump on my boot. I looked down, and wallowing in the mud was a human being. I later learned he was a sixty-seven-year-old Protestant minister who had been trapped on the island during the invasion. He was 6?1? and weighed 85 pounds. We got him on a stretcher and cleaned the mud off his face, and I asked what I could do to help. As we were preparing for evacuation (I’ll never forget this lesson in American history), he said, “Soldier, do you have a flag?”

I said, “I don’t have one on me, but I can secure one.” We secured one from a local jeep, I handed it to him, and he held it on his bosom and welled up with tears. He said to me (I was nineteen years old at the time), “Thank God you came.” I have often thought, as I looked through my daughter’s history book, “Where is that kind of feeling—that ‘Thank God you came’?” I saw one battle in which I took part described in a U.S. history book for eleventh grade, and it gave us two lines. That kind of hurts my feelings—not because I was so important out there, but I saw the price that some of my buddies paid for those two lines in your history book. I hope you have the sense to instill in your youth, your children, the desire for patriotism in defense of this country and love of God with it, because it’s important. I think your precept here will be important, and how you do it and the way you do it will make the difference in the outcome of this great nation of ours.

“How are you doing, Matte?” Grandmother asked.
“I’m about finished, Mormor (Grandmother). It will be ready on time.” She held up the sweater she was knitting for her grandmother’s inspection.
“You’ve done a fine job,” Grandmother said. “I’m sure that Jenny will love it.”
Matte’s American cousin was coming to Norge (Norway) for a visit. She was going to stay for the whole month of August, and Matte had many things she wanted to share with her. This sweater was one of them.
In Norge everyone wore a svetter (sweater) knitted with wool in pretty patterns. Jenny’s sweater was navy blue with white diamonds and polar bears. Polar bears were very popular, and Jenny would look stylish in it.
Matte had many plans for her cousin. Ålesund, her town, was right between two of Matte’s favorite places. On one side were forested mountains; on the other was the fjord. She would take Jenny up on the ski lift so she could look down on the countryside. After a trip to the heights, they would swim in the crystal-clear water of the fjord.
Matte had been baptized in the fjord just two months before. She planned to share that day’s special memories with her cousin while they were swimming there. She wanted to introduce Jenny to this most important part of her life—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Matte and Mormor had started talking to the missionaries after Christmas. The missionaries had taught them about Jesus Christ and the Prophet Joseph Smith. They learned that Joseph Smith was a prophet to people all over the world and that he’d translated a very important book, the Book of Mormon.
The book fascinated Matte. In school they sometimes studied about the American Indians, and she loved learning about these people who were so proud of their race and heritage. So when she’d heard that the Book of Mormon was about them, she was eager to read it.
She and Mormor had read it aloud to each other during the long winter evenings. When they finished the last sweet words of Moroni, they prayed about what they read. A calm assurance that it was true helped them decide to be baptized.
That had started a new life for Matte Pedersen. The very first Sunday after her baptism, Soster (Sister) Hansen introduced herself as the Lykkefroken (Merrie Miss) teacher. Matte was to be in her class. Although there was just one other girl, Solveig, they had a lot of fun. On Sundays, Soster Hansen taught them many important things from the scriptures.
On their activity days, they learned different kinds of things. Soster Hansen helped them make their own bunad (national costume). When May 17, Constitution Day, came around, the girls proudly wore the beautiful dresses and aprons that they had made.
The Lykkefroken class was going to Bror (Brother) Olsen’s farm next week. Matte, Jenny, and Solveig would cut the sweet-scented hay with scythes and hang it to dry on racks. They’d gather speckled eggs and help milk the cow. Oh, how delicious that warm milk would be! Then they’d help Soster Olsen churn the cream into butter. It would be so much fun. Jenny was sure to like it!
Matte finished the last stitch on the svetter and cut the yarn. Carefully she worked the end into the pattern so that it wouldn’t unravel. “There,” she said happily. “It’s finished. I hope she likes it.”
The next morning she and Mormor were up early. They wanted to have the house sparkling clean, with supper waiting, when Jenny and Aunt Louise arrived.
At the sound of a car horn, Matte ran to the window. They were here! Rushing to the door, she was swept into Aunt Louise’s arms for a big hug. Then she faced Jenny. It was like looking in a mirror! She had blond hair streaked by the sun, and apple-red cheeks. Blue eyes like her own looked shyly back at her.
“Welcome to Norge,” Matte said, hugging her cousin.
“Thank you, Matte.”
“Come to my room,” Matte said. “I have something for you.” In the bedroom, she handed the tissue-wrapped present to her cousin. “I made it myself!”
“It’s beautiful!” Jenny exclaimed as she unwrapped the sweater and admired the intricate pattern. “I can’t believe you knitted this yourself! Now I don’t know if I should give you the present I made. It’s not anything like this!”
“I’d love to have it. Please?”
Jenny ran into the other room and dragged a suitcase back with her. Opening the case, she pulled out a present. Matte admired the beautiful wrapping, then carefully opened it. Inside was a wooden embroidery hoop with a message cross-stitched on cloth: I can follow God’s plan for me.
Matte felt excitement build inside her. She understood English very well but wasn’t quite sure she interpreted the motto right. Finally she grinned at her cousin and gave her a hug. “You’re a Lykkefroken like me!” Seeing Jenny’s puzzled look, she added, “A Merrie Miss. You’re a Latter-day Saint too!”
Laughing and hugging, the girls eagerly told each other of their baptism days, one in Norway and one in America. It was a wonderful surprise to learn that they were both members of the Church.
“Since we can’t introduce the gospel to each other,” Matte said with a twinkle in her eye, “maybe we’ll find someone else to teach it to this summer!”

Our grandson, six-year-old Jeffrey Monson Dibb, accompanied by his six-year-old girlfriend, paused at an end table in his house on which there was a picture of Elder Jeffrey R. Holland. The young girl pointed to the picture and asked, “Who is that man?”
Jeff replied, “Oh, that’s Elder Jeffrey Holland of the Quorum of Twelve Apostles. He’s named after me!”
This same namesake of Elder Holland’s, along with his girlfriend, went for a walk one day. They marched up the front steps of a home, not knowing who lived there or what affiliation they might have with the Church. They knocked on the front door, and a woman answered. Without the slightest hesitation, Jeff Dibb said to her, “We are the visiting home teachers. May we come in?” They were ushered into the living room and were asked to be seated. With total faith the children addressed the woman, “Do you have a treat for us?” What could she do? She produced a treat, and they had a nice conversation. The impromptu teachers departed, uttering a sincere “Thank you.”
“Come back again,” they heard the woman say, with a smile on her face.
“We will,” came the reply.
The parents of the two youngsters heard of the incident. I am certain they were restrained in counseling the little ones. Perhaps they remembered the words from the scriptures: “And a little child shall lead them.”

Let me ask each of you to picture two crystal goblets in your mind. They differ in size and shape. They are both of good quality and have been well used. One has been carefully kept in a china cupboard. It is clean and polished. It is warm and inviting in appearance. It sparkles in the light and is filled with clear water.
The other glass is coated with grime. It has not been in the dishpan for a long time. It has been used for purposes other than those for which it was made. Most recently it has been left outside in the weather and has served as a flowerpot. Although the flower is gone, it is still filled with dirt. It is dull and unbecoming in the light.
Is not each of us like a crystal glass? We vary in size and shape. Some of us radiate a special spirit. Some are dull and uninviting. Some fill the measure of their creation. Others do not. Each is filled with the accumulated experiences or debris of a lifetime.
Some contain mostly good things—clean thoughts, faith, and Christian service. These hold wisdom and peace. Others enclose dark and secret things. Over time they have filled with unclean thoughts, selfishness, and sloth. They often hold doubt, contention, and unrest.
Many know they are not living up to their potential but for various reasons have procrastinated making changes in their lives. Some long for they know not what and spend their lives in a haphazard pursuit of happiness.
These, in a way, are like the crystal goblet which spent part of its existence filled with dirt. They sense that there is a higher purpose to things. They become dissatisfied and begin to search for meaning. First they look outside themselves. They sample the pleasures of the world. As they do they discover, much as did the snail who set out to look for its house, that after arriving at wherever they were going, they are no closer than before to the object of their search.
Ultimately, they look within. They have really known all the time that this was where to find peace. Sin, you see, is not just a state of mind. Wickedness never was and never will be happiness. (See Alma 41:10.) They discover that if they are not righteous they can never be happy. (See 2 Ne. 2:13.) They resolve to change. Then they are confronted, figuratively, with the problem of how to turn a weathered flowerpot into a sparkling crystal goblet. Questions are asked: Can I ever be forgiven? Is it really worth the effort? Where do I begin?
In the case of the glass it is easy to understand what to do. We begin by recognizing a better use for the crystal. A convenient place for dumping the unwanted contents is selected. The dirt is left there. The goblet is carefully washed with high quality detergent to remove the stains and residue. It is lovingly polished and placed once again in the company of other crystal glasses in the china cupboard. It is put back into use and cared for regularly.
There is a similar process whereby men and women are purified. The misuse of their lives is forgotten, and they are renewed and changed. This principle, of course, is repentance. When accompanied by authorized baptism, it provides not only an initial cleansing but an ongoing remission of sins as well. Participating in this purifying process is perhaps the most thrilling and important thing we can ever do. It has far-reaching, even eternal, consequences. Of more immediate interest, however, the rewards of repentance are peace and forgiveness in this present life.
Let me illustrate what all of this means. A few years ago I was asked to speak to a group of young men. I don’t remember now exactly what was said, except that near the end I made the statement that no one, but no one, present had done anything for which he could not be forgiven.
After the meeting was over one of them came up to me and said, “I just have to talk to you.” Inasmuch as I soon had another appointment, I asked if it could wait or if someone else could answer his question. He replied that he had already waited many years and that it was very important to him.
So taking advantage of the few minutes available, we found a little unused classroom, went in, and closed the door. “Did you really mean it? Did you?” he asked.
“Mean what?” I said.
“The part about how none of us had done anything that could not be forgiven,” he replied.
“Of course I did,” I said.
Through his tears his story came. He was of goodly parents. All of his life his mother had told him that he was going on a mission. Before he turned nineteen he was involved in serious transgression. He didn’t know how to tell his parents. He knew it would break their hearts. He knew that he wasn’t worthy to serve a mission. In desperation, he began to look for an excuse not to go. He decided to take up smoking. He felt that his father could understand that better and would not probe for the real reason. Smoking would hurt his parents, he rationalized, but not as deeply as the truth.
He soon found, however, that the bishop wasn’t put off by his use of tobacco. The bishop told him to just stop it and go on a mission anyway. So to get away from the bishop, he entered the military service. There he fell under the influence of some good Latter-day Saints. He stopped smoking. He was able to avoid major temptations. He served his time, received an honorable discharge, and returned home.
There was only one problem. He felt guilty. He had run away from a mission. He had run from the Lord and sensed somehow that gnawing discontent which comes when men do not live up to the purpose of their creation.
“So there you have it,” he said. “I have not sinned again. I have attended my meetings. I keep the Word of Wisdom. Why is it that life seems empty? Why do I feel somehow that the Lord is displeased with me? How can I know for sure I have been forgiven?”
“Tell me what you know about repentance,” I said.
He had obviously done some reading on the subject. He spoke of recognition, remorse, and restitution. He had resolved never to sin again.
“Let’s see just how those principles apply to you,” I said. “Let’s begin with recognition. What is the best indicator that someone recognizes he has done wrong?”
“He will admit it,” was his reply.
“To whom?” I asked.
He was thoughtful. “To himself, I guess.”
“Men sometimes view themselves in a most favorable light,” I said. “Wouldn’t better evidence of awareness of wrongdoing be to tell someone else?”
“Yes, of course,” he answered.
“Who else?” I insisted.
“Why, the person wronged,” he said, “and … and maybe the bishop.”
“Have you done this?” I asked.
“Not until now,” he replied. “I’ve never told it all to anyone but you.”
“Maybe that is why you have not ever felt completely forgiven,” I responded.
He didn’t say much.
“Let’s look at the next step,” I said. “What does it mean to feel remorse?”
“It means to be sorry,” he answered.
“Are you sorry?” I asked.
“Oh yes,” he said. “I feel as if I had wasted half my life.” And his eyes filled again with tears.
“How sorry should you be?”
He looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
I said, “Well, in order to be forgiven, a transgressor must experience godly sorrow. (See 2 Cor. 7:10.) He must have anguish of soul and genuine regret. This sorrow must be strong enough and long enough to motivate the additional processes of repentance, or it is not deep enough. Regret must be great enough so as to bring forth a changed person. That person must demonstrate that he is different than before by doing different and better things. Have you been sorry enough?” I asked again.
He hesitated. “I’ve changed,” he said. “I’m not the same as I was before. I keep all the commandments now. I would like somehow to make it up to my parents. I have prayed for forgiveness. I apologized to the person I wronged. I realize the seriousness of what I have done. I would give anything if it hadn’t happened. Maybe I haven’t been as good as I could be, but I don’t know what else to do. But I didn’t ever confess to anyone.”
I said, “I think after this meeting we can say you have even done that.”
Then he said, “But after all of that, how can I ever know the Lord has really forgiven me?”
“That is the easy part,” I replied. “When you have fully repented, you feel an inner peace. You know somehow you are forgiven because the burden you have carried for so long, all of a sudden isn’t there anymore. It is gone and you know it is gone.”
He seemed doubtful still.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I said, “if when you leave this room, you discover that you have left much of your concern in here. If you have fully repented, the relief and the peace you feel will be so noticeable that it will be a witness to you that the Lord has forgiven you. If not today, I think it will happen soon.”
I was late for my meeting. I opened the door and we went out together. I didn’t know if we would ever meet again. The following Sunday evening, I received a telephone call at my home. It was from the young man.
“Brother Howard, how did you know?”
“How did I know what?” I asked.
“How did you know I would feel good about myself for the first time in five years?”
“Because the Lord promised he would remember no more,” I said. (See Heb. 8:12.)
Then came the question: “Do you think the Church could use a twenty-four-year-old missionary? If they could, I would sure like to go.”
Well, that young man was like one of the glasses we spoke about. He had been out in the world and was partially filled with the wrong things. He was not content. Sin had clouded his vision and interfered with his potential. Until he could find a way to repent, he could never become what he knew he should be. It took time to change. It took prayer. It took effort, and it took help.
My young friend discovered that repentance is often a lonely, silent struggle. It is not a once-in-a-lifetime thing; rather, it lasts a lifetime. As President Stephen L Richards once said, it is an “ever-recurring acknowledgement of weakness and error and [a] seeking and living for the higher and better.” (In Conference Report, Apr. 1956, p. 91.)
This young man came to know that repentance is not a free gift. Just as faith without works is dead (see James 2:17)—so repentance, too, demands much. It is not for the fainthearted or the lazy. It requires a complete turning away from wrongdoing and a set of new works or doings which produce a new heart and a different man. Repentance means work. It is not just stopping doing something. It is not just recognizing the wrong or knowing what should be done. It is not “a cycle of sinning and repenting and sinning again.” (Hugh B. Brown, Eternal Quest, Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1956, p. 102.)
It is not only remorse; rather, it is an eternal principle which, when properly applied over sufficient time, always results in renewal, cleansing, and change.
The young man we have spoken about discovered that where sin is so serious as to jeopardize one’s fellowship in the Church, the sinner must be willing to submit to the jurisdiction and judgment of the person who holds the custody of his Church membership and request forgiveness of him as well.
Most important of all, he learned that repentance is an indispensable counterpart to free agency. Free agency in the plan of salvation contemplates that men and women are free to choose the direction of their lives for themselves. Repentance means that as imperfect beings sometimes make imperfect decisions, they may correct their course. By following the rules of repentance, and through the atonement of Jesus Christ, mistakes don’t count. The Lord agrees to “remember no more.” (Heb. 8:12.) Because of the miraculous gift of forgiveness, transgressions are forgiven—and forgotten. Men can be cleansed and return to the path of purpose and progress and peace.
By repenting, my young friend became a new person. He was born again of the Spirit. He came to understand for himself, and that is the important thing, the meaning of the Savior’s words: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matt. 11:28.) I so testify, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.

My father and my mother were very different from each other. My mother was a singer and an artist. My father loved chemistry. Once at a symphony concert, my mother was surprised when my father stood up and began to leave before the applause began. My mother asked him where he was going. His response was, in all innocence: “Well, it’s over, isn’t it?” Only the gentle influence of the Holy Ghost got him there with her in the first place and brought him back to concerts time and time again.

My mother lived in New Jersey for 16 years so that my father could support the family by doing research and teaching chemistry. To her it was a sacrifice being separated from her widowed mother and her unmarried sister, who had cared for her in the old family farmhouse. They both died while Mother was far away in New Jersey. Those were the only times I ever saw my mother cry.

Years later my father was offered a job in Utah. He asked my mother, again in all innocence, “Mildred, what do you think I should do?”

She said, “Henry, do whatever you think is best.”

He turned down the offer. The next morning she wrote him a letter that I wish I still had. I remember that she told him, “Don’t open it here. Go to the office and open it there.” It began with a rebuke. He had promised her years before that if he ever could, he would take her to be near her family. He was surprised by her expression of irritation. He had not remembered the desire of her heart. He immediately sent a message accepting the job offer.

He said, “Mildred, why didn’t you tell me?”

She said, “You were supposed to remember.”

He always spoke of that choice to move to Utah as his own, never as a sacrifice of his professional career. They had received the miracle of becoming one. It would have been better if Dad had been reminded by the Holy Ghost of the promise he had made years earlier. But he did allow the Holy Ghost to soften his heart so that her choice became his.

Brothers and sisters, how do we react when adversity hits? Is our personal righteousness sufficient to carry us through with faith and trust in the Lord? I would like to tell you of a young woman who has passed through incredible trials, is currently in the midst of incredible trials and will continue to suffer these trials, perhaps until she dies. And yet her personal righteousness, radiated through an infectious smile and humble spirit, touches all around her. In her humble way, she has consented for me to share her story with you. Her name is Maamakamo Viau of Tonga.

Maama suffers from Weber's Syndrome, a condition that causes her left leg to swell to grossly abnormal proportions. Symptoms of her condition appeared early in her life. She was very sickly, and suffered chills, vomiting and pain in her leg. As a teenager she was baptized to the Church but her parents forbade her to attend so she was never confirmed and her records were lost. In 2002, while visiting an aunt in New Zealand she became deathly ill from other complications and went into a coma and for three weeks she was on life support. All medical signs regarding the viability of her living at all registered zero chance. Her parents were still in Ha'apai but gave the doctors in NZ permission to do what they thought was right. Her aunt who is a member of the Church persuaded the doctor to continue the life support until she could contact her bishop who came and administered to Maama. After the blessing the doctor started to disengage life support, but Maama, still in the coma, lifted her arm and actually pushed the doctor's hand away. Maama's parents were on their way to NZ believing they would be attending a funeral. When they landed and were still at the airport, Maama woke up and began to improve rapidly. Her parents began softening toward the Church.

Maama recovered from her illness, but her leg was still deformed and grotesque. She wanted more than anything for love and marriage and children, but worried that her leg would turn away any suitors. That's when she met Eliesa Viau, who at the time was a less active member of the Church. He was not put off by her leg and continued to court her. They fell in love and decided to marry, which they did in 2003.

Their first child, Lu'isa, was born with a severe heart condition and lived only three months. While pregnant with their second child, Maama was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. She and Eliesa were sealed in the New Zealand Temple soon after the child's birth. By that time, however, her leg had inexplicably begun to grow even larger. The family returned to Tonga.

By the time she was pregnant with their third child, in the fall of 2007, her leg had ballooned in size and caused her tremendous pain. The doctors told her that the baby would have to be delivered by C-section as soon as possible. Due to both Maama's and the baby's fragile health, no anesthesia could be used. So, the doctors just tied her arms down and cut her open. The baby was only three pounds but fortunately lived.

At about this time my parents, who are serving in the Tonga temple, took the Area President, Elder Spencer Condie, to visit Maama. He gave her a blessing in which he admonished her to "Have faith, faith unwavering like unto Alma" and told her that she "still [had] a mission and a work to perform on earth." Upon her release from the hospital Eliesa's brother ‘Ofa, who was less active in the Church, and his wife Mele, who was active in another religion, graciously took them in to their tiny home, despite having six children of their own.

After awhile Maama's leg grew to the point were she could only walk with tremendous effort and assistance. The last time she was able to leave the house was to go to the temple this past January with Eliesa. She had to be transported to and from the temple via ambulance. It was a beautiful experience for her and she felt the nearness of heaven. She is now completely immobile and confined to her bed, but says she thinks about the temple every day.

Brothers and sisters, although you may have a mental image of her condition in your mind, it probably does not come close to what the leg is really like. To help you better understand the extent of her condition, Maama has consented to show pictures of her leg. If you feel that you would rather not look, that's understandable.

Maama has been blessed with a husband who cares immensely for her. He is by her side continuously and loves her dearly. Doctors had told Maama that she would die last year, and she credits the love of Eliesa and others that she is still alive to fulfill her mission.

Maama is a fearless preacher of the gospel. Many prayers, tears and testimony gradually softened the hearts of her brother-in-law and his wife. Maama talked to them every day about the gospel and the Church. Two months ago, Mele and three of her children were baptized. ‘Ofa became active in the Church and now they all attend regularly. Maama believes her life was prolonged to provide an example of faith and courage for ‘Ofa, Mele and their family.

Maama recently shared her testimony with me. She says, "It is in my greatest pain and deepest distress that I feel the closest to Heavenly Father.... My testimony of the Gospel is firm and unwavering. I am so grateful that Heavenly Father has given me life and has prolonged my life, especially in my condition, so that I can repent and change, and learn to love others and become worthy of living in His presence. I am especially thankful that He loved us all so much that He gave His Son, Jesus Christ to live and die and take upon Him our sins. I give thanks for the Prophet Joseph Smith that through him the Gospel was restored to the earth. I bear testimony that this is the only true and living Church on the face of the earth."

Although I have never personally met Maama, she has already impacted my life for the better. She is an incredible example of one whose personal commitment to the gospel has sunk deep into her heart, which allows her to stay true amid terrible physical trials. In the midst of her personal suffering, she finds joy and gratitude in a righteous loving husband, in the kindness of friends and family, in the blessings of the temple, in the ability to bring others to the truth. It is not surprising that her name, Maamakamo, in the Tongan language means "light that beckons" or "beacon light."

I had a wise bishop who called me in when I was twelve. He said, “LeGrand, we need some organists in our ward. I’d like you to take an organ class at the McCune School of Music. It costs five dollars for ten lessons. The ward will pay half of it, and you pay half.” I’m sure my mother put him up to it and paid the ward’s half.
I took the class and started to play the organ. When I was fourteen, I became the ward organist. In my high school days, I played the piano in a dance orchestra. That was a lot of fun. I loved the rhythm, and I could usually make five or ten dollars a night. When I was in dental school in Kansas City, Missouri, I played the organ at a Presbyterian church. It was a great experience for me. I played a lot of LDS hymns for them. They especially enjoyed “O My Father” and “Come, Come Ye Saints.” After playing at their service, I would get on the bus and go play a pump organ at our service.

A few years ago I had just reported to the mission field in Sacramento, California, as the new mission president. I had some questions that I thought were important, so I wrote a very formal letter to the First Quorum of the Seventy.
“Dear President Young.” He was the senior president then, and I listed the questions. Pretty soon, back came an answer. “Dear President Buckner.” And he listed all of the answers. Then at the bottom, in his own handwriting, he included a P.S. “Got your head above water yet, kid? If not, keep cooking.”
You know, it taught me a great lesson. Young men, you need to learn to do your best, wherever you are.

Farid says the biggest blessing he’s received since joining the Church is the knowledge that families can be together forever. A year after Farid joined the Church, his grandpa passed away. “I loved him so much,” Farid says. “He was one of my biggest examples. I felt really uncertain about where he would go in the next life.”
One of his friends at church talked with him about the plan of salvation and how he could do the temple work for his grandpa. Farid started working on his family history, and he went to the temple and was baptized for his grandpa.
“I have faith that when I die and pass through the veil, he will be waiting for me,” says Farid. “The Lord’s work doesn’t end in this life. I know now if my grandparents or parents pass away, we have the chance to see each other again in the life to come. We will be an eternal family.”
“I have faith that when I die and pass through the veil, he will be waiting for me.”

A young man once walked the foggy streets in London, England, carrying a brightly burning lamp. An old man approached him, saying, “I will pay you if you can guide me to my hotel.” The young man lifted his lamp and took the older man to the appointed location. When they arrived the young man received not one, but three payments, because two other men who were lost had also followed the light through the fog.
“The light that we shine will be seen by the people around us, often without our knowing it,” says Sister Julie Jacobs, relating one of her favorite stories from the Ster, the Church’s International Magazine in the Netherlands.

The Lord’s hand guides this work, and the experience of Vumilia Tambwe illustrates that. She was home in September 2016 when two sister missionaries knocked on her door. Vumilia had immigrated to the United States five years earlier from the Democratic Republic of the Congo by way of Kenya. She kindly visited with the sisters but was not interested in their message.
Later that evening, the sisters went to the home of a member family for dinner who had recently become a host family for refugees. Because of the language difference, the refugee family and host family couldn’t communicate with each other. The refugee family had rashes all over their bodies, and the host family didn’t know how to help them. When they told the sister missionaries about the problem, the sisters told the member family that they had just met a woman named Vumilia who spoke both Swahili and English. The missionaries went back to get her help. Vumilia learned that the rashes were caused because the family had mistakenly been using shaving cream as lotion.
The host family and Vumilia became great friends, and they threw a citizenship party for Vumilia in January 2017. Vumilia began her journey toward becoming a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints because of the true friendship she experienced from members of the Church.

Just a few months ago, I graduated from college. The day I put on the cap and gown, I felt excited, happy, grateful, and so incredibly nervous. I remember feeling confused and fearful of what lay ahead in my future. It wasn’t until a few weeks later when I was listening to a conference talk and thinking about what the speaker was saying that I felt the power of the Spirit. It was an overwhelming feeling of comfort and direction. I immediately wrote down in my journal the thoughts that were coming to me, and now I look to those words whenever I feel doubt. That journal entry has become a source of comfort for me because it feels as if it came straight from God.

Since this was all back in the '60s, there were no computers, and until I could take a typing class in high school, my mother had to type all of my term papers and book reports. She taught me another principle that I have used many times in my life with my children and many other people with whom I have been associated.

It is “ Do not let your lack of planning become my emergency.”

In other words, if she was going to type my book report, she would not be doing it late the night before it was due. I had to allow her several days to fit in the time to type it for me. It took pressure off both of us when I took a typing class and was old enough to type my own reports. Let’s hope all of us never let our lack of planning become someone else’s emergency. As a child and a teenager, my parents truly taught me to organize myself and “prepare every needful thing” as the scripture says.

When I was baptized, I was the only member of my family who accepted the gospel. I was 19 years old, and I was happy about my baptism. I was welcomed by the brothers and sisters of the Panuco First Branch in Veracruz, Mexico. In addition, I began preparing to serve a full-time mission as soon as I had been a member of the Church for one year. It was wonderful to know the true Church, and I wanted to share the gospel with others.
My father, my stepmother (my mom died when I was 12 years old), and my three brothers rejected the Church when I was baptized. Unfortunately, I didn’t respond well. I was disrespectful to them. I didn’t consider my father or his opinions. When I told him I would serve a mission soon, he was not happy since I would stop working and especially since I might go far away. It bothered me every time my family’s lifestyle conflicted with my principles, such as when they watched TV or listened to music programs that I felt were inappropriate for Sundays or when my father would invite me to have lunch on fast Sunday.
I justified my negative attitude toward my family by telling myself that I wasn’t doing anything wrong—as a member of the Church, I should live gospel principles even when my family members bothered me. I told myself they were the ones who should change. Due to this reasoning, my relationship with my father was not good. It got worse because of my attitude and pride. I continued this way—not concerning myself with his spiritual welfare.
One day while I was studying for my institute class, I came to 1 Nephi 16, where Nephi breaks his steel bow, making it difficult to get food. Everybody began to murmur—Laman and Lemuel, as was their custom, together with their father, the prophet Lehi. Nephi responded by making a bow and arrow out of wood and asking his father where he should go to obtain food. His father prayed for guidance and was reprimanded by the Lord for having murmured. Lehi reacted favorably and retook his role as leader of his family and as a prophet of the Lord. Nephi did not judge his father in his weakened state, nor did he think that he shouldn’t be prophet anymore, even when Nephi had spoken with the Lord and had received visions.
When I read and understood this account, immediately I thought of how badly I had behaved toward my family. I was embarrassed by my attitude—feeling that I was better than they were—and felt especially bad for not treating my father with respect. I was sad for not making it a priority to share the gospel with them.
I had not seen my family as they could become. I had focused only on their weaknesses. From that day on, my attitude and behavior changed gradually. I strived to always respect my father’s opinions, despite the many times I did not agree with him. If he invited me to lunch when I was fasting, I said I was sorry for not being able to share the meal with him. I no longer felt bothered by the programs or music they watched or listened to on Sundays, remembering that they still hadn’t made covenants with our Heavenly Father, as I had.
One morning while I was helping my father with a meal, I told him how much I loved him and how sorry I was for my rude behavior. I told him I was proud that he was my father and that I wanted to have a peaceful relationship with him.
Everything began to change. The arguments lessened and disappeared. Although I thought it would be a long time before my family joined the Church, their attitude toward the Church improved. None of these changes would have happened had I not changed first.
After I had been a member of the Church for one year, I served as a full-time missionary in the Mexico Tijuana Mission. Three months before returning, I received a letter saying that my family had accepted the gospel and would be baptized. When I returned, they already belonged to the Church.
In my 15 years as a member of the Church, one of my greatest lessons came from my study of the Book of Mormon and with the children of God I had closest to me: my family.

Last spring, I was asked to model for the prom fashion show on a local television station in Los Angeles. I was so excited to be one of the five girls chosen to be on TV. After weeks of rehearsal and preparation, we finally had the dress fitting. I quickly learned that the director of the show had already picked out all of the dresses to be modeled. I had been chosen to wear the most revealing dresses.
When I saw the dresses I was expected to wear, a line from the Young Women theme came to me: “We will ‘stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places’ (Mosiah 18:9).”
I felt extremely uncomfortable with the dresses that had been chosen for me, and I knew that I would not be standing “as a witness of God” if I wore them. I requested a dress change but was told that the director wanted me to wear those specific dresses and not any others. My only other option was to exclude myself from the show.
The decision was difficult to make, but I knew I was doing the right thing when I chose not to be part of the show. I wanted to keep the commandments under all circumstances, not just when I had nothing to lose.
[illustration] Photograph © PhotoSpin

Hi! My name is Avehei. I live in Tahiti! On my island, I love to be outside. I go on hikes and swim in the river or ocean. I also enjoy doing things with my family. I like to cook, play card games, and hike. I love to play ball and climb trees with my brother and cousins.
During summer break, I work with my brother in a coconut grove. We gather coconuts and put them in a big pile. We also gather dead leaves so the grove stays clean.
Our great-grandfather pays us when we work in the grove. I always pay my tithing with the money I receive. I learned from my family and Primary teachers how to pay tithing.
I pay tithing because I know that my family and I are blessed when I obey. I am blessed with my family, a house, and a beautiful world around me.
I know that God lives and that He loves me. I thank Heavenly Father for the family He gave me.

I was with President Lee on one occasion in New York City, where he had an interview with George Cornell, the senior writer of religion for the Associated Press. As we sat there, George Cornell said to President Lee, “I’d like to talk to you about some of the controversial aspects of your Church.”

As he mentioned one or two of them, Brother Lee said, “George, your readers do not want to hear about that. What your readers want to hear about is the great welfare program of the Church and the outstanding education program of the Church.” Mr. Cornell began to take notes, and as a result an almost full-page story from the Associated Press described our educational effort and our welfare program. No mention whatsoever was made of the controversial subjects of that time. This was the persuasive ability of Harold B. Lee.

One Friday, he and Sister Benson followed their usual practice of attending a session at the Jordan River Temple. While there, President Benson was approached by a young man who greeted him with joy in his heart and announced that he had been called to fill a full-time mission. President Benson took the newly called missionary by the hand and, with a smile on his lips, declared, “Take me with you! Take me with you!” That missionary testified that, in a way, he took President Benson with him on his mission, since this greeting demonstrated President Benson’s abiding love, his devotion to missionary work, and his desire to ever be found in the service of the Lord.

Standing on the edge of the broad sidewalk leading from the front doors of the meetinghouse, Brian could see people milling around in the foyer. The meeting was just over.
Brian was actually going to meet a real prophet! When the missionaries called him a few minutes ago, he couldn’t believe his ears. They told him that President Spencer W. Kimball was visiting a neighboring ward to attend the blessing of a great-grandchild. Brian could meet the prophet, they said, if he came quickly.
As he hung up the phone, Brian yelled to his mom that he was going to the church. Then he jumped on his bike and raced the four blocks there. The missionaries were waiting for him. They stood on either side of him now. Other people were waiting on the sidewalk, too. Brian guessed that they’d also heard that the prophet was here today and had come to see him.
Brian glanced down and was dismayed to see his scuffed and tattered tennis shoes and his old T-shirt. He hadn’t thought about changing before he came over. He might have missed meeting the prophet if he had. But what would the great leader think of him?
Brian hastily tucked in his shirt. He couldn’t do anything to change his shoes, but maybe the prophet wouldn’t notice them. Suddenly he felt a wave of uneasiness. Turning to the missionary on his right, he asked, “Elder Turner, how do I look?”
Elder Turner peered at him closely and pointed to the corners of his own mouth. Brian quickly wiped away any traces of lunch, then looked at the missionary again. Elder Turner nodded with a smile.
Until meeting the missionaries a few weeks ago, Brian had never even heard of a modern prophet. He knew about Noah and Moses and other prophets in the Bible. But he’d never thought that a prophet might be on the earth today. The missionaries told him that the prophet tells people what Jesus would tell them if He were here.
He had seen pictures of Old Testament prophets with long white hair and flowing beards. So he was surprised when the missionaries showed him a picture of President Kimball. He did have white hair, but it was neatly trimmed. Brian thought that he looked like a kindly grandfather.
One day, when the missionaries had taken Brian to Primary, he heard a song about following prophets. He looked around him in amazement at all the children who believed in a prophet.
Brian’s attention returned to the church. The doors opened, and a small group came out. They moved slowly, greeting people as they made their way down the sidewalk. Some fathers held little children in their arms or on their shoulders so that they, too, could see and greet the prophet.
Brian could tell that someone was stopping and shaking hands. Grown-ups blocked his view, but he caught a glimpse of white hair and a dark suit. It surprised him that the man wasn’t much taller than he was.
As they came closer, someone moved and Brian could see clearly. He saw the man whose picture the missionaries had shown him. The man spoke softly and kindly to the grown-ups and children he shook hands with.
Brian felt worried. What would the prophet say to him? Would he sense Brian’s doubts and questions? Would he say something to try to persuade Brian that the Church was true?
Then President Kimball reached out his hand again, and Brian heard a familiar voice.
“President Kimball, it is so great to meet you. My companion, Elder Turner, and I would like you to meet our friend, Brian. He’s investigating the Church.”
It was Elder Ellis who was speaking and shaking hands with the prophet. His other hand reached out and rested on Brian’s shoulder.
The prophet turned and looked at Brian. He caught his breath as President Kimball smiled at him.
Extending his hand, Brian spoke haltingly. “I’m … very … glad to meet you, sir.” He felt his face becoming warm.
President Kimball took his hand in a soft but firm grip. Then suddenly the prophet released Brian’s hand and threw both arms around him and gave him a big hug. With his face close to Brian’s, he said softly, “I love you.” His voice was low and raspy.
When he released Brian, he smiled and then turned to greet Elder Turner. Brian was speechless.
He watched the prophet of the Lord continue to shake hands until he reached a car at the curb. Helping his wife into the backseat, he turned and raised his hand to the people gathered on the sidewalk. Then he climbed into the backseat, and the car pulled away from the curb.
Three words! That’s all he had said. Yet Brian felt deep inside that they were true. He knew that a prophet had spoken those words. A prophet! Were they the words Jesus would say to Brian if He were here? A warm feeling began in Brian’s chest and spread through his body. Yes, he thought, they were the same words.

One young man changed forever my feelings about the value of this gift, and what it means to be a child of promise. Bob Allen was an undergraduate at Stanford University when I was his bishop. He left his schooling to serve a mission in Japan. He came back to school, took up his studies, and lived as many of you do, in a world of too many demands and too little time.

One day I was sitting at my desk in the graduate school of business at Stanford, head down, struggling with the blue books and papers that bear down on your professors as much as they do on you. The door was open into a hallway. It must have been late because the hall was dark, and I expected no one. Suddenly I sensed someone was standing motionless in the doorway. I looked up and saw two people. They were standing side-by-side, looking at me and smiling. I remember to this hour that their faces seemed to shine. Suddenly, Bob Allen stepped between them and, smiling as broadly as they were smiling, said, “These are two new bishops from Japan.” They could speak little English, but I could tell they loved Bob Allen and, because of something he must have told them, they loved me.

After a few awkward minutes of trying to talk with them through Bob, they left. I thought then, as I have many times since, how remarkable it was that he had found time to spend days with those young men from Japan.

Within a few years I left Stanford for Idaho. I’d heard little of Bob, except that he had graduated from Stanford and had been accepted at the University of Utah medical school. Then I got a phone call from a Stanford friend. He told me Bob had been killed. He told me that Bob’s parents would grant me the chance to say a few words at his funeral. Just before the service I met with friends, Bob’s and mine. I asked to know more about how the accident had occurred.

Bob had been killed mountain climbing, climbing through clouds and storms to find a way of escape for his companions on the mountainside. I felt impressed to ask one who had been there, “What was he doing in camp on the climb?” He said Bob had taken his missionary lessons, in Japanese. He’d studied them again the night before his death. Now, of all the things you might decide to study at night, on a mountain-climbing trip, in the summer before medical school, why would you choose that? Well, I think I know why Bob did. I think he would have heard the words of President Benson and known they were true, the words he lived by: “You have been born at this time for a sacred and glorious purpose.”

I spoke in a sacrament meeting in Tokyo ten years later. The person who introduced me mentioned I had been at Stanford. Two young people, a couple, rushed to me after the meeting and said, “Did you know Bob Allen? We love him.” Just a few months ago I was in Tokyo again. Of all the excellent presentations made to me, one seemed most remarkable. I asked to see the man who made it. He was introduced, and then he said, “We have met before, at Stanford University.” He was the young man, now older, who had stood with his fellow bishop in my office door. He told me about his life, and the life of the other man, now a great leader in Japan. In that moment I learned again, in my heart as well as in my head, what it means to have a royal inheritance of time, and how a child of promise who believes the promises can invest it—even just a little of it—to produce returns for eternity.